


This Last Goodbye

by mansikka



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Goodbye Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-18 08:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18246320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: They can't be together. There is always a reason for one of them to walk away. Can they have this last night together and forget everything else? Can they have this last goodbye?





	This Last Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I don't for a second think these two will ever have a _last goodbye_ \- aside from the one where they stop saying goodbye to each other altogether because they're already together and won't part again. So this thing? I don't know what this is. I must have been in a sour mood when I wrote it. Um. Enjoy?

Alex is walking away again. _Again_. After everything. Michael knows it's impossible for both of them, but he really needs Alex here now.

"Can we just have this?" Michael calls out, heart arching when Alex's footfall doesn't slow. "Tonight? Here?"

He needs this. He needs Alex, and he's never felt so _vulnerable_ like he does. Michael is sure he's never even _asked_ Alex to stay before now.

Alex comes to a stop by his truck, one hand braced against the bodywork, but he doesn't turn. Michael thinks it means he's listening, and Michael so desperately wants to be heard.

"Look. You and me, we're… we're a mess. We're something, and we can't be anything at the same time. I get that, okay? But I've never _felt_ like this with anybody else."

"Me neither," Alex says, and he's still several feet from him, but Michael can hear him clearly on the breeze.

"I just want… I _need…_ I need _you_ , Alex. I do. I always have." That has never changed for Michael. Even if he knows that he can't.

Alex turns, his expression guarded, but there's a tremble to his jaw that breaks Michael's heart. Why do they have to keep breaking each other?

"Alex. _Please_ ," Michael whispers, hearing his own voice break.

"I don't think I can," Alex replies, his eyes bright with the tears Michael knows are seconds from falling on his own cheeks. "It's not that I don't want to, because I do. More than anything. More than I think I ever have. But I just _can't_."

"Why?" Michael knows the answer, but if he hears Alex say it out loud then he won't feel so alone in this. He needs to know he won't be alone in this, because ultimately, he _will_ be alone.

"I don't think I can walk away from you again. I can't."

"I don't want you to."

"But I can't _stay_."

"But—"

"Because I can't _leave_ you again, Guerin. I can't. And I can't be _with_ you. Not like this. Not with everything that's going on."

" _Please_ ," Michael says again, stumbling forward, and reaching down to slot his fingers through Alex's. He doesn't flinch, doesn't stir, yet looks as anchored as he feels. This, here, _Alex_ is Michael's home.

"How am I supposed to walk away from you?" Alex says, reaching up to cup Michael's face. Michael leans into his hand, aching, broken, and put back together all at the same time.

"Don't."

"But if I stay, I _have_ to. I have to leave. You know that."

"We could have tonight," Michael says, curling his fingers around his waist, "we could… we could have that."

"But then how do I leave?"

"How do I let you go?"

He needs him closer. Michael tugs until they're flush together, dropping his forehead against Alex's and breathing deep. And he needs to _touch_ him; with a quick twist of his wrist his thumb is beneath Alex's shirt, brushing over his bare skin.

He can kid himself over this. Michael can pretend they will wake in the morning, and he'll be in any kind of position to watch Alex walk away. He can fool his heart that it isn't already breaking, that he hasn't already worked out how many hours and minutes they get together, before it's their final goodbye.

Alex brushes his lips against his and Michael crumbles for it, leaning his weight on Alex and clinging on tight. "Ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"Ask me to _stay_ , Michael."

Michael's heart breaks again. No one has ever said his name so gently. Nobody has ever called him anything that isn't mocking, disdainful, or laced with irritation. How is he going to make it through these next few precious hours, if everything Alex does is already tearing him apart?

" _Yes_."

"I need to hear you say it," Alex says, giving him a tearful smile. "Just once. Maybe the only time. You never say it."

He could be flippant. Swagger and smirk, give a cocky wink dismissive of this feeling he has like when the sun comes up tomorrow, his world will be devoid of anything meaningful. That's how this usually goes. And he can't do it anymore.

" _Stay_ ," he whispers, raising Alex's hand and kissing his knuckles. "Alex, stay with me. Even if we only get tonight."

"We can only _have_ tonight."

 _Why_? Michael wants to ask, even if he already knows. They don't get to be together. No matter how whole being together makes them feel.

"Then, stay," Michael says, kissing his hand again as he stares at Alex. "Stay, Alex. Let's make those pyrotechnics I was talking about."

Alex chokes on his tears, and Michael shakes his head to take back his glib suggestion. He cups his face and kisses him as soft as he can, saying everything he wanted to without saying a single word.

"Stay with me," he says, mumbling it against Alex's mouth. "Please."

The lock of the door behind them rings with finality. Michael watches Alex close his eyes and let out a shuddery breath, and pleads for this one last, perfect night to go right. Alex holds his hand out for Michael to lace his fingers through, his smile both sure and unsteady as he pulls him in. Michael swallows with difficulty as they stumble together, wanting to savor every second they have, as much as he wants to claw at Alex, feel his skin on his already.

Alex cups his face, drops their foreheads together, then sighs before kissing his cheek. He cradles him close, fingers slipping round to slot through his hair as he starts to kiss him. Slow, and measured, full of the heat that is _them_ , and with a patience that says Alex too wants to memorize every moment of tonight.

Michael squeezes his hand letting Alex know to drop it, loosely gripping his waist. He is firm and solid beneath his palms, familiar and reassuring. He can't think of tomorrow, not now. Not now, when he has Alex here in his hands. So he swirls his thumbs over Alex's sides then sweeps his hands up his chest, carefully helping him out of his jacket.

Alex's fingers slip beneath the sweater Michael is wearing, fingertips pressing just above his belt. He strokes a path up, thumb brushing through his chest hair and over a nipple. Michael holds his arms up as Alex peels the sweater from him, barely breaking eye contact as he does. Michael watches the ripple of pain on his face as Alex fights to rein it in, echoing his broken smile.

"Let's not," Alex says, and he means _don't talk about it_ , he means _don't think this is us for the very last time_. How Michael is supposed to go through the rest of his life without _this_ he has no idea.

"Since when did you get to be the wise one about all this?" Michael teases, starting to unbutton Alex's shirt.

"Since I knew that when I wake up tomorrow, I'll lose you. For good this time."

Michael hears his throat click with tears and doesn't trust himself to keep talking. He strips Alex of his shirt in seconds, his heart thudding when Alex pulls him in tight. Alex's skin shouldn't feel like this to him, like he completes him, like they're separate and together all at the same time. But it does, _he_ does.

Alex plucks at his belt. Michael drops his head back for it, feeling the slide of leather through the clasp then having to watch his fingers at work. He rests his hands on Alex's shoulders, squeezing to feel familiar muscle, his stomach rippling for the pop of his jean button and slide of his fly. Have they ever taken their time quite like this? Michael isn't sure. But when Alex slips his hands in to slide his boxers and jeans down a little, then wraps his fingers around him in a firm, steady grip, Michael sags for the heat of it, gripping on tight.

Alex knows him, every part of him. Michael watches his hand on his cock as he strokes him, shoves his jeans down a little more to give him more room. Alex smiles for the gesture and alters his grip, giving a swirl of thumb that he knows will make Michael whimper, triumphant when he looks at him.

"Tease."

"Always," Alex agrees, holding on to Michael as he drops to his knees.

"Your leg—"

Michael drops his head back with a groan for Alex's mouth on him, fingers already through his hair. He stumbles when Alex yanks at his jeans getting them down to his knees, smoothing his hands up the fronts of his thighs. He hooks a thumb around his base, splays his fingers flat against him. Michael covers Alex's hand back at his waist for balance and squeezes, stuttering for the practiced lick up his length.

Alex sucks him into his mouth, eyes falling closed when Michael looks. Michael traces a thumb over his lip where Alex's lips are stretched around him then cups his cheek, a gentle swirl for every wave of heat building in his core. But then he cracks his eyes open and Michael stumbles for it, the heat of Alex on him and the intensity of his gaze.

When he sees Alex adjusting on his knees Michael taps at his shoulder, watching himself slip from his mouth. A slight wince tells him Alex's leg is uncomfortable, so without warning he grapples him up on to the bed, tripping over his own jeans as he does.

"Half a job," he says, smiling when Alex does, freeing himself of his boots and clothes in seconds, then reaching out to squeeze his leg. "You okay?"

"You could've helped," Alex replies, "and I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Really."

Michael has to believe him, can't ask all the questions he wants to about how it happened. He remembers the first time they did this when Alex got back, the uncertain glance he'd given down at his own leg as they'd stripped. Like Alex would ever be anything less than perfect to him, and _everything_. Michael had shown him that then, and has every intention of doing the same now.

Crawling between Alex's legs Michael sweeps his hands over his chest, bending down to kiss a path from his throat to his belly button. He kisses over his length through his jeans, carefully unbuckling him. He nods for Alex to lift up then gently pulls them down. Michael pats his hands away when Alex goes to remove his prosthetic, wanting him to know he will always be whole to him.

Michael presses a kiss to one of the scars there then kisses his way back up his body, groaning when Alex lifts and pats his legs for him to settle in between. The press of them together is overwhelming, because Michael thinks he might miss this the most. Them unhurried and moving slowly together; why have they so rarely taken the time to before now?

Alex nudges against his head where Michael has tucked himself into his neck. "I wanna see you," he says and Michael gets it. He needs to catalog him as well. So he kisses him, slowly, taking breaks to study his face. And they keep moving together in that unhurried slide building heat, and pressure, and need for each other. Michael would do this every night for the rest of his life, if only they could.

Alex's face crumples. Michael feels it before he sees it, wants more than anything to tell him everything will be alright. But he can't, all he can do is hold him, close his eyes to the tremors in Alex's body as he fights to keep his own anguish inside.

"We're not gonna get anywhere like this," Michael says, playing with the hair at Alex's temple as he brackets his head between his arms.

"Good," Alex says, with a bittersweet laugh.

"Why's that good?"

"Because," Alex says, arching up for a kiss, "the quicker we start, the quicker this will be over. I don't want this to be over. I don't ever want this to be over."

"Well," Michael says, swallowing back the thick lump in his throat, worsened for seeing Alec's tears, "we do _have_ all night."

"It's not enough," Alex tells him, shaking his head and his tears springing free from his eyes, "it's never enough."

It's too much. Michael tucks his face into his neck and cries there, squeezing his eyes shut as Alex wraps his arms around him tight. But they aren't here for _crying_ ; Michael knows there will be enough tears for them both when they're alone again.

"Are you done?" Michael asks, as gruff as he can make his voice, glaring down at Alec as he tries to smile.

"Are _you_?"

"Never with you," Michael replies, which isn't helpful, though is the truth. He watches Alex fight to compose himself, and when he tilts his head up for a kiss is happy to oblige.

There is lube within grabbing reach; why wouldn't there be, when a few weeks ago he'd had Alex right here, just like this? Alex holds out his hand for Michael to pour into then nudges him up, wrapping his fingers around them both. Michael slots his fingers through to join him, the tight wet heat of their hands together the perfect friction to fuck into.

Michael braces better on one forearm claiming kisses in between rolling his hips, cataloging every noise falling from Alex's mouth. He jolts when Alex wraps a leg around his waist, bracing for thinking he might flip them over like he did last time. Michael calls out, first for the tighter press of them together and second for remembering Alex pinning him to the bed. Alex smiles against his mouth making Michael think he's remembering the same, though slowly shakes his head and sweeps his hands up his sides.

"It's… sore today," Alex says, nodding towards his stump. Michael quickly goes to pull away to take the pressure off him, though Alex still has his leg around his waist keeping him in place. "You don't need to do anything."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

Michael doesn't think he can bear the idea of causing him physical pain, on top of all the emotional hell they've put one another through so many times. But he doesn't want to demean Alex either, to make him think _he_ believes him somehow _less_. "This your way of trying to get me to do all the work, Alex?"

"Absolutely," Alex agrees, his smile more genuine than it so far has been tonight.

"Like always," Michael says with an eye roll, but is already carefully pitching to the side. Alex snags his fingers around the lube by his head and caps the bottle, squeezing some on to Michael's waiting hand.

 _This_ Michael intends to catolog carefully, stealing kisses as he fingers him, snorting when Alex wriggles with impatience complaining he's taking too long. Michael teases him with a tap at his prostate that Alex has always made the best faces for, then crawls back between his legs. He thumbs him open, intent on memorizing this image before him, savoring the feel of Alex squeezing around him as he fills him whole.

They don't move, not together, not yet. Alex clenches to feel him, trailing his fingers up over Michael's back. Michael needs to remember this, to hold on to this feeling. There will never be anything else that makes him feel as whole, as complete as he does right now.

Alex gives him a sad smile, adjusts his legs a little before nodding to tell Michael to move. And this, _this_ is as familiar as always but also nothing like they usually are together. They move unhurried, never breaking eye contact for anything but a kiss, smiles for one another when a wave of pleasure surges through one of them, kissing the resultant groans from their mouths.

 _This_ is how Michael knows he and Alex are supposed to be together. No one else has ever felt like this to him, never coming close to this sense of home. He'd ridicule it, call it hormones, blame it on about a hundred different things on a day when the hope of Alex in his future was still a real one, when every stir of him inside Alex wasn't another goodbye. But today, he cherishes it, owns that feeling of belonging to someone. Belonging to _Alex_ ; there is nobody else that he'd want to.

He's getting close; how can he be already? When he's being so careful to move so slowly, trying to make this last the entire night. But he can't; Alex has always felt incredible to him. Michael comes with a defeated groan far quicker than he's ready for, dropping his head to avoid Alex's eyes.

Alex says nothing, only continues to stroke his fingers over his back. But then he slots them through his hair and pulls him down into a kiss, and this, _this_ is how they will spend the rest of their night.

Michael moves just enough to get his hand around him, never breaking eye contact as he strokes. Alex gasps as he comes, only glancing quickly down at his hand before staring back at Michael with such desperate need, it pricks fresh tears in Michael's eyes that he's adamant he'll hold on to until he can't.

He doesn't move, determined to feel Alex on him and around him for as long as it's comfortable for them both. Those tears threaten to fall when he pulls out of him for knowing that's the last time they'll be this close. Though when they're wiped clean and turned on pillows still clinging on to one another, Michael knows they couldn't be closer, couldn't be more in tune to what the other is feeling. Desperate to delay their inevitable goodbye.

They explore each other. Blemishes and freckles, sensitive spots and scars. Alex is so tender with him that Michael feels like screaming for how unfair this is, for how wrong it feels to be parting when nothing else has ever felt this right. And when Michael urges Alex over on his back he shows him all the love he's never been brave enough to say out loud. Because he does love Alex, loves every inch of him. His heart will break this time tomorrow—long before then. It's already broken, but Michael can't let himself think about that now.

"Will you stay?" Michael says, kissing the thumb pad pressed to his lips.

"Would it be easier if I didn't?"

Michael shakes his head, aching for just the thought of it. He presses a kiss to Alex's palm as he composes his words, before gripping his waist and shaking his head with a smile. "No. That'd be hell."

"Then, I'll stay."

"It's gonna be hell either way."

"It will," Alex agrees, sighing as he strokes up his chest. "But we can have—we'll have this. Even if we don't get anything else."

It's not enough. It will never be enough. If Michael can't have Alex in his world, then he's not sure who he is. But he nods anyway, leans in to kiss him when they settle on their pillows. He hopes he doesn't get any sleep tonight.


End file.
